


Sins of the father

by nastystoryteller (naivesilver)



Category: Le avventure di Pinocchio | The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naivesilver/pseuds/nastystoryteller
Summary: Punishing the father for the son's misdeeds.
Relationships: Blue Fairy/Geppetto
Kudos: 3
Collections: Corsets & Lemons 2019 round - 1800 literature





	Sins of the father

She comes to him in the middle of the day.

She has no need to hide under the cover of the night – just a dip of her head, a flick of her wrist, and the neighbours’ nosey glances slide off her easily. They will be none the wiser, and there’ll be no gossip about a beautiful woman with turquoise hair visiting old Geppetto when his son is not home.

Thing is, it’s vital for Pinocchio not to be present for this. What is about to happen is not about him – or, well, it is, but it wouldn’t be beneficial for him to see it. It would just traumatize him further, and _there_ ’s something Pinocchio doesn’t need. 

Geppetto can’t conceal his surprise when he comes to greet her, but he’s not unpleasantly surprised, either. She’s been in this house often enough, to see how Pinocchio was faring as a human boy, and while the child has always been the most ecstatic of the two, his father was decidedly not unhappy, tracing the curves of her body with his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.

He is not a lecherous old man, but he _is_ a man, and a man that has not known a woman for a long time. And after all, that’s what she does: she makes herself look motherly and reassuring to children, and she makes herself look beautiful to adults.

Thousand of men and women have been fooled by her body: Geppetto is not the first, and he certainly won’t be the last.

“Forgive me – we weren’t expecting you, ma’am. Pinocchio will be at school for a few hours yet” he says, gesturing for her to come in somewhat anxiously.

“Oh, I know. I’m not here to see him today” she replies, smiling and shaking her head to refuse the chair he’s offering her. She won’t have time to sit down at all for the next few minutes, after all. “Actually, I wanted to speak to you about him.”

Geppetto’s face darkens instantly. “What has he done now?”

For some reason, these words make her irritation flare up. How _dare_ he – Pinocchio earned his humanity through months of trials, worked and studied even as he nursed his ill father back to health. She would know if the boy had done something wicked, and he’s not acted out ever since he left the Land of Toys. He’s not done anything worse than coming home with grass-stained clothes after playing with his friends, and this man would ask what he has done wrong _now_?

“Now, nothing” she answers, voice as sweet and pleasing as honey despite her rage. “It’s about what we did before he found you again, and the price that must be paid for it.”

Geppetto looks even more confused now. It’s almost endearing how he and Pinocchio react to it the same way, cocking their heads to the side and scratching their hair. “What?”

“You know very well what” and oh, here the honey turns to cold steel in a matter of seconds. “Kneel.”

It’s not a full command. She only partially wraps power around her words, letting lust and invitation seep in alongside it instead. He could fight it, if he really wanted. He could resist her orders, if he really believed himself innocent, if he knew he doesn’t deserve the punishment, if he didn’t desire her.

But he does. He goes down on his knees, so hard that she fears he might have broken some bones, old and frail as he is. His mouth opens and closes as that of a fish, but no word comes out.

“On all fours” she adds, and he complies without hesitation. She wills reality to bend to her will, and his belt flies out of its hoops and into her hand, leaving her able to hook a finger on his trousers and let them slide down.

It’s truly a pathetic sight, his wrinkled cheeks, his wizened manhood, but she’s not here to gain pleasure from her actions. This is Geppetto taking responsibility for what _he_ did, or what he didn’t do.

“What has Pinocchio done now, he asks” she murmurs, caressing his naked skin with the belt. He shivers, violently, even at the slightest touch.

How long has it been, since he experienced anything close to this? Years, for sure, or perhaps all his life. Her abilities are not those of a common woman, after all. She’s not a woman at all, sometimes.

“Pinocchio has done many things, you know. I suspect he told you some of them, but not all, or you’d feel more ashamed. He learned what it means to be a good boy through trial and error, and I taught him so much about what was expected of him, but here’s the question – why didn’t _you_ teach him anything?”

Geppetto mumbles something unintelligible, a reply that gets strangled in his throat as she touches his cock. She catches “school” and “made”, and she smiles, thin and ferocious like a knife.

“Of course, you made him. You gave him clothes, and taught him to walk, and sold your coat to give him books and send him to school. He loves you like a father for all of it, and struggled to come back to you, but all you told him was to be good. How was he to know what it meant, without you telling him? Who was to tell him he should have been kind, and polite, and a hard worker, if not you?”

She raises her arm then, ready to strike.

“And do you know what he did, because you couldn’t take the time to spend a few days with your son, to teach him to be good? He skipped school.”

The first blow has Geppetto gasping loudly, then whimper in pain. And to think she started with a weak lash, to build her way up to what he truly deserves.

“He lost money he had earned. He followed bad companies.”

Two more lashes, only slightly stronger than the first.

“He got hanged, and sick. He would die before taking a medicine, because he didn’t like the taste of it. He would beg instead of working. He lied, and he talked back, and he killed a cricket that had done nothing to him, and more and more as that I can’t even begin to explain.”

Each sentence is punctuated by a new blow, and Geppetto is crying by now, sobbing quietly as tears streak his face and fall to the floor, his arms wavering under his weight. His skin is reddening and purpling under the strength of her hits, and it gets cut open as she goes on, thin lines of blood trickling down.

She pauses then, looking around. This a carpenter’s workshop, after all: she might yet find something to her liking.

And there it is indeed. It’s not finished, it might yet become a kitchen utensil or the likes, but for now the flat and broad blade and the thin handle resemble a paddle well enough.

She puts the belt in his mouth, inviting him to bite into it with a not ungentle murmur. She doesn’t want him to bite his tongue, after all. That he might taste the blood staining the leather in his mouth is only a secondary effect.

The unnamed instrument fits perfectly in her hand, and she resumes her recounting, tossing her blue cascade of hair over her shoulder as to move more freely. Geppetto is a pitiful, snivelling mess at her feet, but she has yet to break a sweat. She is still as striking and beautiful as when she walked in.

She is a Fairy, _The_ Fairy if you were to talk ranks and power. She’s dreamlike and nightmarelike at the same time, a creature as old as humanity with a name too ancient to even be mentioned, and he’s enjoying his punishment, for all that he might beg her to stop were he free to talk.

“And the Land of Toys? Did Pinocchio mention the crimes he committed here? How he got turned in a donkey, and slaved away to work for a cruel man? How he broke his leg, and got tossed in the sea to drown? The fish ate his donkey skin, you know. They made him a puppet again, and that’s how he swam in the shark’s mouth, how he found you and got you to safety.”

The blows she’s inflicting now must be even more painful, what with the already damaged flesh she’s hitting, and strong enough to send him sprawling on the floor, but she holds him still with her magic. He couldn’t move now even if he wanted.

“You were sick after, so you might not remember, but I do. He worked himself to the bone to feed and take care of you. He practiced his writing at night, and cared for you by day, and the one time he wanted to get something for himself he gave his money away for me, who he believed to be sick in a hospital. That was the trial I put him through to prove his worth, and that was how you became wealthier and healthier, and how he became a real boy. This is how he’s learned to be good, and what he has done for you, to come back to you, and yet you’d ask if he’s misbehaving _now_?”

She delivers the final blow with all her might, and only after she releases him. He’s a quivering mess, and ready to crumble at the first touch.

But his manhood is erect and proud, a clear sign that there’s a magic to her he’s still victim to. It’s amusing, to see his body enjoying its suffering to this degree, and she strokes it with her fingers, feathery-light.

It must have been long, too long indeed, since he was in bed with a woman, for Geppetto comes suddenly, spilling his seed on the ground below him, with a cry that is half of pain and half of satisfaction. After, he collapses sideways, his face flushed by effort and pleasure. He curls on himself, wracked by violent sobs as he wraps his arms around himself, as if they could give him any protection against her.

But her duty is done. She can’t say she hasn’t enjoyed it, but she won’t linger longer that she needs to.

She places her makeshift paddle on the floor, and disentangles the belt from his teeth, leaving it at arm’s reach for when he’s strong enough to get dressed. Finally, she bends down, caressing his face with a gentle hand.

“That’s what I say to you, Geppetto: have more faith in your son, for he is a good boy, and he has learned the hard way what it means to be otherwise. But I’d counsel you to compose yourself before he comes home. He doesn’t deserve to bear witness to this, too.”

Then the Blue Fairy straightens up, plasters a smile on her face and walks away from him, vanishing in thin air as soon as she’s out in the sunlit street.

**Author's Note:**

> Not a new fic, just a prompt I filled in October for the Corsets and Lemons Kinkmeme linked on this story. Cheers!


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